


Find My Way Back

by bloominsummer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Declarations Of Love, Future Fic, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 23:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12220725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: Stiles went away for college four years ago and now he's finally home. Everyone's happy about it, except maybe Derek.Or so it would seem to Stiles.





	Find My Way Back

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic. No copyright infringement is intended.

Stiles’s sitting on the last step of his back porch, gulping down his first beer bottle and trying his best to enjoy the afternoon breeze. His friends are all chatting excitedly with one another, most of them crowding the barbecue area trying to get their grabby hands on some sausages or fruit satay. Everyone is there, even Derek. Stiles has strong suspicions that the only reason he’s over there to his far left—making small conversations with Liam—is that Lydia had threatened him to show up.

Tonight is his homecoming party. Well, technically he’s been home for almost a month, but they decided to wait for Isaac to come back from visiting his aunt in Lyon before throwing a celebration. Isaac showed his gratitude for their patience by generously gifting them each one box of macaroon. Stiles hadn’t touched his, but he knows Scott already ate his box and Kira’s share too. 

He’s too busy staring at Derek from afar that he doesn’t see his best friend walking in his direction before he flops down right beside him, nudging his legs.

“You know I’m happy to have you back, right?” he asks, giving Stiles the signature puppy dog look.

“You _have_ to be happy. You’re my best friend." 

“Yeah, but even if I don’t have to, I would be.”

“Were you angry when I left?” Stiles asks before he can stop himself.

“Angry? No.” Scott looks confused. “Why would you ask that?”

Stiles shrugs. “It seemed to me like you were, for some time.”

“I was sad. I was going to miss you. I did miss you. We grew up together and then you were leaving and growing up. It took some time for me to adjust without my partner in crime, you know? I would have pizza nights with Isaac and order extra anchovies before I remembered that anchovies were your thing, I didn’t even like ‘em. It was like… reprogramming my life, I guess. But I was never angry. How could I? You were doing something big for yourself. I was proud, if anything.”

“You don’t like anchovies?”

Scott gives him a look that basically said, _that’s what you got from all that?_ but he answers Stiles’ question anyway. “Well, about six months in I realised they had, in fact, grew on me.”

“Thanks, Scott,” Stiles replies sincerely. Scott nods and nudges his legs again.

They’re silent for a moment after that because Scott focuses all his efforts on devouring his sausage before it has the chance to get cold, but as soon as he has his last bite, he clears his throat and turns to Stiles. “You talk to Derek?”

“He looks constipated every time I get near him, so, no.”

“Hah,” Scott says dismissively. “That’s just his usual face. You know, there are times in high school when I thought you had like, a crush on him or something. You’d pick fights with him just because but then whenever you have something important, you always wanted to tell him first. Then I remembered you tried to get Allison to shoot him with a freakin' crossbow so I was like, yeah, _no way_." 

There’s fondness in Scott’s voice whenever he talks about Allison now. It used to be sadness, in rare occasion it would be laced with bitterness and anger, though all of those dissipated over time. They moved on, but it didn’t mean they didn’t still carry her every step of the way. They chose to honour her memory by living according to her code, every day. Stiles misses her, and he’s pretty sure he speaks for the rest of his friends as well. Allison was good. Allison didn’t even question his request when Stiles told her to point her crossbow at Derek.

He smiles to himself at the memory, which feels like a very long time ago, and then it hits him. Stiles turns his head to look at Scott so hard he almost gives himself a whiplash. Scott’s laughing at first, but one glimpse of Stiles’ expression successfully shut him the hell up. His eyebrows scrunches up, and before long his eyes widens. Stiles knows he must have figured it out too.

“Oh, shit. You _did_ have a crush on him. You always try to get other people to shoot your crush?”

Stiles buries his head in his arms and sighs. “It was a long time ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“Shut up, Scott,” he shoots the idea down.

Stiles stands up and walks toward his dad, who is currently flipping beef patties on the grill. Derek eyes catches his by chance and he gives Stiles a smile. It’s not a real smile, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. At least Stiles thinks it’s not a real smile, although after spending approximately an outstanding total of 20 minutes together in the past four years and one month, he can’t think of a reason why he would know which of Derek’s smiles are real and which ones are not. The guy doesn’t even smile that much.

 

* * *

 

_The pack was having a party at the loft, a ‘yay we graduated high school in one piece’ euphoric atmosphere filling the air. It was a special party, since the owner of the residence, Mr. Grumpy Sourwolf, usually would not consent to any kind of fun taking place where he lived everyday._

_Stiles fidgeted all the way through the night, debating internally whether to tell Derek about the possibility of him leaving Beacon Hills for college or not._

_The older man, as usual, had to take on the responsible adult mantle, so he had been discreetly checking the police radio in his make-shift study room for any supernatural activity. Stiles didn’t think he actually seen him drink anything besides mineral water that night._

_In hopes that he would get the support he wanted, Stiles made his way over to Derek._

_“What do you think about… Stanford?” he asked nervously, instinctively crossing his fingers that the music wasn’t too loud forDerek to hear him before realising that duh, of course the werewolf could hear Stiles who was only five feet away from him. He has super-hearing, for God's sake._

_“Good school,” Derek commented while adjusting the radio. “Less than a day drive from here.”_

_He didn’t even look at Stiles as he said that. It was a little more formal and a little less friendly than Stiles would’ve liked. Derek was his friend, not his education counsellor, but he was talking as though he was the latter._

_He decided to try one more time, so he took a deep breath and said, “Okay, let me rephrase that: what do you think of me going to Stanford?”_

_That time, Derek did look at him. There was a hint of pride in his eyes, although it went as quickly as it came. “You got in? That’s great, Stiles.”_

_“You meant that,” Stiles noted. He didn’t mean for it to come off accusatory, but he felt that’s how it sounded like._

_“I did. I’m happy for you.”_

_“You meant that, too,” he noted again._

_Derek raised his eyebrows at that. “You’re being weird. Would you rather I didn't mean what I said?”_

_“I would have to leave home. Not… be around.”_

_Their gaze met and for a moment Stiles could see the green of Derek's eyes. Fortunately before he could embarrass himself by waxing poetic them, Derek had already looked away from him and was nodding in agreement._

_“You have to do what you have to do, I’m sure the pack will understand.”_

_Stiles scoffed. It didn’t go over so well the first time he told a member of the pack about leaving. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone else by making them think he was abandoning them, dropping his responsibilities like they're hot metals and ran off to the land far, far away._

_“Oh, yeah, because Scott totally didn’t look disappointed when I told him.”_

_“Scott’s happy for you.”_

_“That’s what he said,” Stiles ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I’m not sure that’s how he feels.”_

_“He’s not disappointed, he’s just going to miss you,” Derek reassured him._

_“And you?”_

_The question seemed to catch Derek off-guard, because his reply came after a beat and his words were a little shaky. “Am I— Am I gonna miss you?”_

_“No. Are you disappointed? That I want to go?”_ _  
_

_Derek exhaled the breath he was holding in relief, although Stiles didn’t notice it at the moment. The three glasses of beers had clearly started to take effect._  

_“It’s your life,” he said softly. “You can’t build it around anyone else’s needs but yours. So you stay, then what? The bad guys are still gonna come at us, things are still going to happen here. Maybe you’d regret it if you go, but I know you’ll regret it more if you don’t. So, go, Stiles. We can hold the fort.”_

_Derek patted Stiles on the shoulder before walking away, trying to ignore his heart's protest of what his mind decided to tell Stiles._

_Stiles left three weeks after their conversation. Derek didn’t see him off._

 

* * *

 

The beef patties weren’t ready and Stiles’ presence _unnerved_ his dad, or so the Sheriff said. He told Stiles to stop circling around him like a vulture because if he wasn’t going to help out, he might as well catch up with his friends. So he obliged the order given to him.

He talked to Lydia for awhile, but they didn’t have anything to catch up on since they practically talk on a weekly basis even when Stiles was away. Isaac was busy sharing his wild adventure tales to Cora and Malia, who both looked like they didn’t believe him. Kira and Liam were also listening in to his stories, albeit more enthusiastically.

Stiles thought about joining Isaac and the others, but then he spots Derek sitting alone on one of those wooden chairs his dad pulled out of the garage for the special occasion. He’s definitely brooding. Maybe that’s how the naturally looks like nowadays. Stiles doesn’t know. He and Derek haven’t spoken much since he got back… or since he left, for that matter. They would occasionally talk over the phone when Stiles was in school and Derek would call him with questions about history or myths, and it’s admittedly more natural interacting with him then. Now, they just exchange all the necessary greetings whenever they happen to be in the same room, but nothing more. Stiles’s not entirely sure if the uneasiness came from his side or Derek’s. Either way, he wants it to be resolved. He wants it resolved fast. 

So he crosses his backyard to go talk to Derek.

“You’re positively grumpy tonight,” he comments when he’s close enough.

The werewolf looks up at him. “I’m babysitting the pups. Of course I’m grumpy.”

Derek gives him a thin smile, the same smile he gave him earlier. There’s a sudden sharp pain in Stiles’ chest. If anyone asks him later about what happened, he would blame the pain for the reason of his consequent outburst. He would’ve said he was drunk, but he really wasn’t.

“I can’t do this,” he blurts out.

“Do what?”

“This,” he points his index finger back and forth between the two of them. “This passive-aggressive silent treatment with you. Pretending like there’s nothing wrong. Making fricking casual conversation like I didn’t come close to cutting off your arm once. It’s like the Cold War: Pack Edition. I’m even sure what I’ve done to deserve it.”

There’s panic written all over Derek’s face and that’s how Stiles figures out he’s not making the situation up. “I’m not doing anything,” is the lie Derek chooses to go with.

“You’ve been ignoring me since I came back from college. It feels like you hate me more now than the first time we got to know each other, and you banged my head on steering wheel then. That’s saying a lot.” Stiles knows he sounds hysterical, but he doesn’t care. Or maybe he does, a little, because he tries his best to keep his voice down. The last thing he wants is for their issue to become a spectacle in front of the pack.

“I’m not ignoring you, we’re talking right now.”

“No, we’re _arguing_ because I’m tired of being treated like crap.”

Derek puts his hands up, signalling defeat. “Okay, sorry.”

“You didn’t even mean that.”

“What do you want from me, Stiles? I said I’m sorry,” Derek asks tiredly.

“An explanation would be nice. You used to scold me, like a lot. At least that way I know what went wrong and how to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix, it isn’t broken,” the Alpha looks at him like Stiles is supposed to know the hidden meaning behind his words.

“You make no sense,” he hisses. “You know, when I came back, I fully understood that it isn’t going to be the same. Scott’s practically my brother, but we both know he went through things by himself when I wasn’t around and it’s different now, it’s harder. I can’t share his all of his load anymore. Lydia grew too, she learned to use her powers and it’s great. It’s so very great. But she’s not the old Lydia. I understood that four years is a long time.”

He stops to catch his breath.

“But I always thought you’d be the same. You’re still going to be the person who tells me to go away to live my own life and do things I want to do, the supernatural be damned. The person who pretended he doesn't care while he really does, the most. The person who was my friend. I always thought I knew the best version of you there is, that there’s not much room for improvement. I never thought that cutting me out of the picture is the one change you needed,” Stiles finishes shakily.

Derek doesn’t say anything in return. He probably doesn’t expect Stiles to go off like that. Even Stiles himself doesn't expect to go off like that. They end up just looking at each other without uttering another word for what feel like a really long time.

Stiles’ skin starts to crawl after awhile, but just then the Sheriff announces that the food is ready. Derek holds his gaze, not looking away from him, but Stiles is more than glad to do the opposite.

 

* * *

 

_Lydia came to find him after the Omega had been dealt with. Derek knew exactly what she wanted to ask: the million dollar question. He was actually surprised that she was going to be the first one. He expected the pack wouldn’t leave him alone after that show, but even Isaac, who’s usually the nosy one, didn’t share his thoughts on the subject matter._

_Lydia didn’t even ease him into it. She didn’t show him any mercy. She just walked right toward Derek and asked, “Does he know?”_

_“No, but you already knew that.”_

_“I can be wrong too, sometimes. You and him, it’s a hard read,” she said gently. “Are you going to tell him?”_

_Derek deliberated his answer, studying the constellation pattern on the night sky as he thought about it. “I might, if he comes back,” he told her honestly._

_“_ When _he comes back,” she corrected him._

_Derek wished she was right, but he had a strong feeling that the advantages of staying away from Beacon Hills far outweigh the disadvantages. Truth be told, there were times when he wanted Stiles to stay away from here, as far away as he physically could. He shouldn’t get mixed up with all the supernatural crap happening, all the new unknown beings popping up everywhere because of the Nemeton. It wasn’t his responsibility, it wasn’t his fight. He’s human. And humans die when they get involved._

_He closed his eyes and remembered Allison._

_He got scared, then. Of something happening to Stiles. Again. As if being the Nogitsune’s victim wasn’t enough for a lifetime worth of mental trauma._

_Was it wrong to silently pray for him to never return and just be safe somewhere else, even if it meant Derek would never get to see him again?_

_He didn’t tell Lydia any of these thoughts._

_“We don’t know that,” he ended up telling her._

_“Speak for yourself._ I _know,” she tapped a finger to her temple._

_Derek looked away._

_Lydia put her hand on Derek’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “Have a little faith, Derek.”_

 

* * *

 

When Lydia asked Derek nicely to come to Stiles’ party, she literally said, _‘I’m asking you nicely,’_ which a good indication to Derek that she wasn’t actually asking as much as giving him an order. Though if you asked him, he would say that he eventually came willingly. It wouldn’t be a full-blown lie because some parts of him did want to come. It was a good bonding opportunity for the pack, or so he told himself. He arrived with an empty stomach, because along with the order she had given him, Lydia promised that there would be steak and mashed potatoes.

It was fine at first, he talked to people like a perfectly civilized individual. He even offered to take Stiles's dad station at the grill for him. The Sheriff had let him down gently, urging him to enjoy the night instead of worrying about food.

Then Stiles came out of nowhere and hit him where it hurts with his words, and Derek couldn’t even tell him how wrong he was about the whole situation before Stiles walked away and proceeded to avoid looking at him. The younger man even disappeared into the house a good thirty minutes ago and hadn’t resurfaced. He has been watching the house for Stiles to come out for exactly thirty minutes. Some ten minutes ago, he got up and made it half-way to the back door before realising he has nothing good to say and wasn’t mentally prepared to tell Stiles the truth, so he got back in his patio chair and sulked.

Now he has lost both his appetite and his will to live.

Derek sees a particular intuitive redhead from the corner of his eyes, sauntering towards him. He doesn’t look away from the house, but he does prepare himself for whatever chastisement Lydia has in store for him.

It doesn’t come, she just hands him another fruit satay and sits down next to him.

“Where did Stiles go?”

 _Ah, there it is,_ Derek thinks.

“He went in.”

“You told him yet?”

“No.” 

 _And here we go,_ Derek thinks again.

But for the second time tonight, Lydia proves him wrong. 

“Okay, take your time. Want an advice? 

Derek makes a mental note to never ever underestimate her before replying as politely as he could, “No, thank you.”

Lydia swishes her hand at him, ignoring him completely.

“If you kiss him, it’d probably do the trick. Stiles does enough talking for the two of you.”

Derek gives her the death glare. It doesn’t do much, because Lydia only rolls her eyes affectionately in return. He hopes Lydia and Stiles are the only ones immune to his death glare, because he would be in so much more trouble if the pack chooses not to obey his rules.

 

* * *

 

_It was hard, when Stiles first left. Not fighting a Chimera hard, but normal hard. Being away from home and not knowing anyone, getting used to 8am classes. Catching up on his assignments while doing research on the side for the newest evil in Beacon Hills._

_In a way, he never really left._

_But it didn’t make a difference._

_He wasn’t there when Lydia got kidnapped, or when Scott got pinned to a tree by an ax. He wasn’t around for Cora’s wolfsbane poisoning or Isaac’s brother death anniversary._

_Scott still told him everything, but that was just it. He needed to tell Stiles what happened in his day. Stiles didn’t get to be a part of it the way he had been before._

_Lydia was a different case. Maybe because she was wise beyond her age that she seemed to understand him more. Whenever she called, she wanted to know what’s going on in his life instead of sharing the latest Beacon Hills news. Who was dating who, what new disastrous recipe Stiles tried that week, which of his professors were giving him a hard time. She often encouraged him to find a girlfriend or a boyfriend._

_“Whichever, honey, you need to put yourself out there,” she cooed._

_He never took her advice, because what’s the point of committing time and energy into a relationship that’s never going to last? He could never share all parts of his life._

_What was he supposed to do, exactly? Tell them that are the stories are true, that the legends are real? That his best friend is a werewolf, with a kitsune as a girlfriend and his other best friend is a banshee who was dating a kanima at one point? Or that the last person he dated was a werecoyote? He would sooner be sent into a mental institution than find someone willing to accept all that._

 

* * *

 

Two weeks after the party, the pack’s gathering in Derek’s loft to discuss the case files the Sheriff gave over to Stiles earlier that day.

Derek said hi when he arrived and offered him a drink, like they were good friends. It felt like the whole conversation they had at the party never happened. Stiles didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, since he didn’t exactly give Derek a chance to explain himself.

Like a coward, he came straight up to his bedroom after dinner and pretended like he was asleep. Scott came to check on him with his dad after and he hid under the covers, pretended to snore. He just wanted to be left alone. 

Scott, bless his soul, got the signal. Stiles knew he could hear his heartbeat and figured out that Stiles wasn’t actually sleeping, but he hushed the Sheriff downstairs, saying that they should just let him rest. Stiles had half-expected him to come back upstairs for the real story, but he didn’t. Stiles ate all his macaroons in bed and fell asleep afterwards, while people were still buzzing downstairs. He found Scott sleeping on the floor next to his bed the next morning and refrained himself from making guard dog jokes as a way of saying thank you.

Five minutes into the briefing, however, he notices Isaac looking back and forth between him and Derek while sniffing the air, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Stiles straightens up when he sees the crooked smile on Isaac’s face. He flinches even before the Beta opens his mouth.

“Don’t you just hate it when Mom and Dad fight?”

Stiles holds his breath. If he knows anything at this point, it’s that Isaac’s not done yet.

“Especially in front of the kids,” he adds, cocking his head towards Liam and Mason who both look like deers caught in the headlights as the others start to turn to look at them. Stiles feels sorry for the younger boys, he figures that they must want nothing more to be excluded from the current narrative. 

“Isaac,” Derek growls in warning.

“Dad,” he says pointedly to Derek, “you smell like sadness and despair.”

Stiles looks directly at Isaac and squints his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. “And who exactly is the Mom in this situation?”

“Nobody,” Derek replies instantly.

Isaac looks at him like he’d grown a third head.

“Why are you guys fighting, anyway? Shouldn’t you be all disgustingly happy and whatnot? Stiles is home.“

Derek’s eyes flashes red for a split second and Stiles automatically shoots out a hand to him, for what reason he couldn’t say. To ground him? To restrain him? It’s silly, if you’re looking at the big picture. If Derek had wanted to lunge at Isaac, there’s nothing Stiles could physically do to stop him.

But Derek doesn’t move and his eyes—they’re fixated on Stiles’ hand—go back to normal. Stiles feels like he was zapped by lightning where his hand is resting on Derek’s forearm and he quickly yanks it back.

“Isaac, let’s just focus on the more important problem of the night, okay?” Malia pipes in.

There’s an underlying ultimatum in her tone and even after all these years, she’s is still the wild card in the group. It has been a perpetual work in progress and there has been a lot of improvements, but predictable was never one of her traits to begin with.

Not wanting to risk a claw fight, Isaac relents.

“Yeah, okay,” he shrugs.

Malia gives Stiles a thumbs up and an attempt at a wink.

 _Thanks,_ he mouths to her, and goes back to explaining the details of the case.

 

* * *

 

_Going back home for the holidays was slightly harder. It was hard because they all knew in the end Stiles had to leave again. The illusion of him being back breaks as soon as they start asking how long would he be staying for this time._

_It was even harder when the pack came to visit, because he didn’t know how to explain the whole other life he had outside of them. Scott only warmed up to his roommates after his third visit, and Scott’s the nicest, most decent guy Stiles ever knew._

_He didn’t understand why it was so hard. It shouldn’t have been. He was prepared for a little struggles here and there, but it was more than he’d expected._

_Then, it passed. It got gradually easier until thinking about home didn’t sadden him anymore. He called his Dad every week and the Sheriff willingly gave him updates on the pack and the current big bad roaming the streets of Beacon Hills. Just a general summary, but it was enough. The rest of the pack kept him updated with other things, too. Even Malia learned how to use her phone to send Stiles text messages, though most of the time he had difficulties trying to figure out what she initially sent through all the autocorrected words._

_They came to see him more often, saying that they like the cafe down the street so much they were willing to pay gas money for it. It was all smoke, but it made Stiles happier. He went back from his classes one day to find Isaac in his living room, playing FIFA with his roommate Jared like they were childhood friends. He eventually found out that Isaac was rebelliously running away from home after a particular nasty fight with Derek that rooted from a simple misunderstanding, but it still made him warm at the core knowing that Isaac considered his dormitory a safe place. It was somewhere he felt he could to run to._  

_In the end, Kira came talk Isaac into going back. It worked after a couple days._

_Derek never once came to visit._

 

* * *

 

To say that the atmosphere in the room remained awkward for the rest of the meeting is a huge understatement. The tension was practically palpable, nobody cracked a joke, not even once. Compared to the usual meetings with innuendos here and there every five minutes, it was a little more than unusual.

Derek had to consciously stop himself from fleeing the place.

When they finished coming up with a plan of action, Lydia practically herded everyone out of the loft to get some food, leaving Derek and Stiles alone. She gave Derek a meaningful look before closing the door on her way out.

Derek sighs and walks toward Stiles, who is cleaning up the case documents scattered on the table.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

Stiles looks at him, the dark bags more prominent than they used to bel. “Sure, but I really don’t want to argue with you right now. 

“I’ll keep my fangs in if you will,” Derek says lightly, holding up his hands.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Derek making jokes. Derek making _werewolf_ jokes. He’s softer around the edges now compared to when they first met. He’s more easygoing that Stiles ever thought he would be. 

“So, what’s up?”

If Derek starts with small talks, he knows he will end up chickening out of telling Stiles the truth, so he tries to get as close to the point as possible while still easing Stiles into it.

“Remember what I said to you, when you came to me for my advice on whether you should leave Beacon Hills?” 

 _Like it was yesterday,_ Stiles thinks. “Kind of,” he tells him.

Derek scratches the back of his neck. “Well, that’s not what I really wanted to say.”

Stiles’ heart breaks. 

“Right. You were the one who told me to go, but now you hate me for leaving too. Get in line,” he says harshly. He focuses his attention back on the files, putting them neatly inside of the folders. 

“I didn’t—“ 

Stiles cuts Derek off. It hurts too much to go through this with him. “I thought we’re not going to argue.”

“I didn’t hate you for leaving. I didn’t hate you, period. I don’t hate you.”

For somebody who just admitted to not hating Stiles, Derek certainly says the words ‘hate’ and ‘you’ in the same sentence a lot.

“Okay?”

“In fact, I feel the opposite of hate for you. And that’s the problem.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asks, his mind gets into a slight frenzy as he catches up with the idea.

Derek meets his eyes and declares, “I’m in love with you, Stiles. I have been for quite some time.”

 _That could not be true,_ Stiles thinks. _There was no chance in hell. But if that wasn’t true… was it a joke? It was a joke! How could he ever thought Stiles would fall for that?_

“What month is it?”

That is definitely not the response Derek expected. He seems so taken aback by the question Stiles presented to him, it takes him a moment to gather himself before he can give an answer.

“Huh? It’s July.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re about three months late for April Fools, don’t you think?”

Stiles walks out of the loft with his heart pounding in his chest and Derek’s words ringing in his ears.

 

* * *

 

_When Stiles moved back, Scott drove to Stanford to pick him up with his Jeep. They spent hours boxing his belongings and moving them into the car and it should’ve been tiring, but it somehow wasn’t. They took their time packing Stiles’ whole life that day, taking at least one donut break every hour. Scott was giddy and he talked animatedly about his last year in school. He was going to work for Deaton first, but he wanted nothing more but to start his own clinic eventually._

_“I want to take care of things that won’t kill me come full moon,” he told Stiles when they finally hit the road. “You know, actual animals.”_

_“Like cats?”_

_“Yeah! Dude, it’d be so cool,” Scott beamed._

_Stiles took the opportunity to crack a good one on his best-friend._

_“Always thought you were more of a wolf person,” he deadpanned. “Oh, wait, you are a wolf-person…"_  

_Scott took his eyes off the road for one second to glare at him. “And you’re still annoying with your jokes. Glad to know some things never change.”_

_He hoped against hope that it was true._

 

* * *

 

Stiles walked out so fast he forgot to bring his bag and the files with him. He couldn't exactly go back inside, so instead he goes on a hunt for a certain someone. Stiles finds the man he’s looking for leaning against his Jeep in the parking lot, waiting for him. He strides toward Scott so fast he trips over himself twice in the process.

“Oh hey, I thought I’d wait for you. Everyone’s going to the diner near the station. Kira said she could kill for a milkshake. I think they took her seriously,” Scott says.

“Derek just told me he loves me,” he replies as calmly as he could.

Scott looks at him for a second while the thought is registering with him, then he’s practically jumping up and down in excitement, clutching Stiles’ sides. “That’s great! Wow, that’s great! Stiles!”

“You’re not surprised at all…” Stiles concludes. “Did you know? Did you?”

Scott stops bouncing and doesn’t give Stiles any reply. He has the guiltiest look plastered on his face.

Stiles gasps and points a finger at him. “You did!”

“Uh… yeah. A— a— about that,” Scott stutters, stepping away from Stiles nervously. 

“What about that?! You better explain yourself, young man!” Stiles waves his finger in front of Scott’s face.

“So… about a year ago, there was this witch that helped us with a rogue Alpha, right.”

“I know, she casted a spell. Basically a devil’s trap for werewolves. Get to the point,” Stiles recaps, impatient. 

“Okay, so she said that she needed to borrow a memory from each us, memory of a loved one. It was totally harmless, she just told us that love is a strong ingredient to any spell. She was going to use it to bound the Omega and then gave it back to us when she’s done. The whole thing made sense, so we agreed to her terms,” Scott pauses to make sure Stiles is still following his story. Stiles motions him to continue. “What we didn’t know was the memories were going to be projected into this flame thing that she has, and we could all see each other’s.”

“The. Point,” Stiles repeats. 

Scott groans. “You’re ruining my great storytelling. My mom came out with that lollipop she gave me when I broke my arm in first grade, then Lydia’s mom braiding her hair and Liam’s little sister. Everyone had their turn. Then you came out. You and Derek,” he pauses again, for dramatic effect this time, “researching.”

 _What?,_ he thinks.

“What?”

“I know! It wasn’t scandalous or anything. It was so mundane and _so Derek_ but like, we were shocked. Well, Malia and I were shocked. Lydia knew, of course. She told me she’s always suspected it. Cora, too. She was like, ‘what, this is news to you guys?’" 

 _Huh?,_ Stiles thinks again.

“What?”

“Derek took it like a pro, though,” Scott nods vigorously in approval. “He— he shook it off and continued to watch the witch complete the spell. I was gaping at him for the rest of the night.”

 _Derek was telling the truth,_ he realises.

“What?”

“Dude, you’re like a broken record,” Scott puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you good?”

Stiles slaps his hand away. “Am I good? You’ve known for over year and didn't tell me. I’m gonna kill you.”

“What did you want me to do?” Scott asks innocently. Stiles pinches his side once, twice, three times. “Ow. Ow! Ow, Stiles, quit it!”

“Give me a heads up, maybe?” he throws his hands up in frustration. “I thought we were friends!”

“It was Derek’s secret to share!” Scott practically squeals out. “It wouldn’t be fair to him if I told you. Besides, _you_ didn’t tell _me_ that you liked him. I probably would’ve told you if I had known.”

Stiles takes a step back. “Right. You’re right.”

He pinches his best friend one more time for good measure.

“Ow! If I’m right, what was that for?”

“You still could’ve given me clues,” he grumbles.

Scott rolls his eyes. Then his eyes widens like he just remembered something important. “So, what did you say?”

“What do you mean?”

He taps Stiles’ shoulder with his hand. “To Derek, what did you say in reply to confession?”

Stiles turns to look at Scott in terror. “Oh, shit.”

“You didn’t say ‘oh, shit’ and then left, did you?” Scott narrows his eyes at him.

“Well, no. I basically told him I didn’t like his idea of a joke…”

“Stiles!”

“How was I supposed to know it’s true?” he replies, defending himself.

“Do you really think Derek’s the type to be joking about love? The guy barely jokes at all!”

“He _has_ been giving me the cold shoulder since I got back,” Stiles points out.

Scott rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands, clearly tired of Stiles’ line of reasoning. “That’s because he doesn’t know how to act around you.”

“He doesn’t even want to look me in the eyes."

“That’s because he wants to jump your bones every time he does,” he answers.

 _Huh,_ Stiles thinks.

“Dude, I gotta go,” he says quickly. Stiles reaches into his pockets and digs out his keys, handing them to Scott. “Take the Jeep home, don’t crash my baby.”

He doesn’t even finish his sentence before he’s already making his way back inside.

“I say something about sex and now poof! You gotta go! Magic words,” Scott yells after him.

“Shut up, Scott,” Stiles shouts back.

 

* * *

 

_Derek knew exactly what he was walking into. He knew exactly whose face was going to come out when the memory was extracted from his mind._

_He didn’t know that it was going to be for show, though. He also didn’t know which memory it was._

_Though when the flames showed Stiles’ face half-buried in a book, all scrunched up in concentration, nothing had ever made more sense to Derek than that moment._

_He gave himself a pat on the back for not falling out of character right there and then, despite all confused look and surprised gasps directed towards him._

_He had a mind to call Stiles after, just tell him that the funniest thing happened today, but once the dust settled he realised that he wouldn’t know where to start. Should he apologise for not being in touch more often? Would Stiles even pick up when he sees Derek’s caller ID? Would it make Stiles happy to hear from him about something other than research questions?_

_Or maybe he was just going to cause a rift in the otherwise calm waters._

_So he didn’t call._

 

* * *

 

“Hi,” Stiles says tentatively as he enters the loft.

Derek is reading a lore book, sitting on the armchair near the glass window. Stiles notes that it has started to rain outside, making the whole scene looked like it’s cut out from a movie. He wants this memory locked forever under ‘the better moments in his life’ folder in his brain. 

The Alpha puts away the book he’s holding and stands up. “If you’re back for your bag, it’s on the table,” he motions. “I put the files inside.”

Stiles begins, “I’m—“

“For the record, I wasn’t joking.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I talked to Scott.”

Derek feels a flush creeping up the back of his neck, so he sticks his hands in his pockets and avoids Stiles’ eyes at all cost. He feels overwhelmingly self-conscious all of the sudden.

“He told you? About the spell.”

“Yeah. Researching, huh?” Stiles asks, his voice unsure.

“It probably doesn’t seem much to him because he wasn’t there. It wasn’t that ordinary.”

“What were doing? In your, uh, memory?”

Derek swallows the bile rising in his throat before answering. “We were training, in the woods. Well, the pack was training. You were reading this old, leather-bounded book that was so ancient you kept sneezing from the dust. It was about pack dynamics, emissaries and mates, stuff like that. We were looking for the Alpha pack’s weak spot. You chatted excitedly, about how humans can have roles, too. Then you found a little inscription that says most often than not, the human mate of an Alpha is the most important person in play. Keeps the Alpha anchored, along with his pack. An emotional tether.”

He stops to see how Stiles’s handling the whole thing, but the younger man hasn’t fled the premises yet, so Derek takes that as a good sign.

“You read examples out loud. Some of them learned how to hone magic, doubling as emissaries. Then you made the connection about Jennifer being the Alpha pack’s emissary, practically out of thin air. You were so happy. You ran off to tell Scott.”

Without realising, Derek has walked half the distance there is originally between him and Stiles.

“I didn’t think I ever seen you happier than when you managed to solve a puzzle. Any puzzle, for that matter. I think that’s why that memory jumped out at me,” he finishes.

They are quiet for a minute.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“First of all, you were a kid. There were many other reasons, one of the biggest being Allison’s passing...” Derek takes a deep breath, “though I did want to tell you once. That was the night you talked about leaving for college and I didn’t know if you were ever coming back. I decided not say anything.”

“I’m four years younger than you, old man,” Stiles argues, squinting his eyes at Derek accusingly, like _that’s_ the point to take away. “And you should have told me.”

“What difference would it make? You were leaving. I would never ask you to stay.”

“And I would have left even if you asked me not to, but we could’ve handled the whole thing differently.” Then it clicks in Stiles’ head, a sudden revelation. “That’s why you never visited. You’re afraid I was going to look like I _belong_ there."

“I just wanted you to be happy. I still want you to be—“ 

This time Stiles returns Derek’s favour. He cuts him off. “My life’s here. The pack’s here, my dad, Scott, Lydia, you.”

Derek hesitates before answering. Stiles takes a step forward.

“Yes, but it’s so much better out there, you get to be normal, you get to have normal problems."

“Like what?”

He takes another step forward.

“Like paying the electricity bill late or.. or.. I don’t know, accidentally burn your dorm trying to make popcorn. Not Nogitsune Tuesdays or Rogue Kanima weekends. I—“

Stiles suddenly feels tired of all the talking they’re doing when they could be doing other things that are way much better, so he closes the distance between them and plants his lips on Derek’s.

Derek is too surprised to do anything at first, but Stiles coaxes his way in with his mouth. As soon as Derek brain returns to full function and he’s kissing Stiles back, though, the younger man pulls away from him. His eyes are bright in the dim lighting of the loft, a shy smile playing on his face.

“Did, did you just—“ Derek stammers, apparently still in shock.

Stiles’ smile morphs into a playful grin. “Punch you? In the mouth? With my mouth? Yeah. I’ve heard you talk more the last five minutes than I have the past month. I just wanted to shut you up a bit. I heard that it was an effective technique, the punching.” 

Derek blinks.

“It worked.”

“Yeah, it did,” Stiles replies, then he’s leaning back in, “I’m gonna do it again.”

 

* * *

 

 _“So, you like the dorky one, huh?’ came the quiet question from behind him. He was watching an old classic movie in what was supposed to be the living room of the loft, so he reached for the remote and turned down the volume. It was a little over a week after the witch finished her job and left town, but Derek had waited to have this conversation long before that._  

_“You don’t approve?” he asked just as quietly. There’s not much he could do if Cora indeed disagree with him, but he knew it was going to hurt anyway to have to live with the knowledge that she feels that way._

_She sat down next to him to the couch and curled up against his side. Derek lifted his arm to let her come closer. “I figured it out some time ago. I mean, you’re my big brother, Derek. Well, that, and I have eyes. I was just waiting for you to tell me,” she explained. “Next time some witch wants a memory, it better be me coming out of your head, though. You hear me?”_

_He felt like a weight was lifted off his chest as he heard what Cora was telling him. It was exhilarating._

_“I think the fact that I love you goes without saying, Cora.”_

_“I know,” she sighed. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”_

_Derek didn’t know how to reply to that. He didn’t even know the answer to the question._

_“I understand,” Cora started again, “that it's hard enough as it is having people you care about. Friends, family. You know, we don’t exactly have the best track record of keeping them safe or alive and well._

_She spoke softly, using a tone she never used to talk about anyone but their sister. Derek longed for Laura then. She would know what to do in this situation because Laura always knew what to do. She was always right for the job—whatever it is—like she was born for it. She was the oldest, the leader, the one meant to be Alpha._

_She was also gone._

_“I miss her, too.”_

_Cora fixed her eyes at the television screen. “Yeah, remember she’s always telling us to do insane stuff? ‘Jump off the roof, Derek,’ or ‘eat this weird curry, Cora,’. We eventually got old enough to know better, but we still always ended up doing it. If we weren’t werewolves, I think we would’ve been dead a long time ago.”_

_Derek agreed, though he didn’t vocalise his opinion. He followed Cora’s lead and continue to watch James Dean on the screen._

_A couple of minutes passed before Cora pulled away from him and looked him straight in the eyes._

_“Do this one other crazy thing for her, Der,” she said. “Tell him.”_

 

* * *

 

Stiles woke up first the next morning. He felt warm and blissed with Derek’s arms around him. He thought that must be what heaven feel like. He watched Derek sleep for awhile, but then it just got a little too creepy even for him, so he made his way downstairs to get some food, he was pretty hungry since the events of last night made him skip dinner altogether. Not that he was complaining.

He was surprised to find Isaac in the kitchen, his tall figure looming over the fridge while he characteristically drank milk straight out of the carton. Isaac asked him if he knew how to make pancakes and the next thing Stiles knew he was making them, not just giving Isaac instructions.

Cora came down not long after, wearing a baggy grey sweater with her hair tucked into a ponytail. She looked a lot younger than she actually was, which reminded Stiles of the first time he saw her.

“Hi,” she greets him. Isaac turns to look at her and Stiles doesn’t need to be a mindreader to know he thinks it’s weird that she being nice. In the morning, even.

“Hi, Cora.”

She boosts herself up onto the bar stool and grabs Stiles’ arm, forcing him to look at her. Her literal claws aren’t out, but her figurative ones sure are. “If you hurt him, I’m gonna tear your head right off your neck with my teeth.”

“Not that I was planning to, but… yikes, you’re scary. Savagery seems to run in the family, huh.”

Cora tilts her head to the right, probably listening to Stiles’ heartbeat to figure out whether he was telling the truth about having zero intentions to mess with Derek. She seems satisfied with what she heard, because she releases Stiles’ arm and settles back in her seat.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she smiles at him sweetly, tapping her fingers against the counter. “I want some of those pancakes.”

Isaac, who was watching their interaction, has a confused look on his face.

“Aren’t you a bit late to the party?”

“It’s 7 AM,” Cora tells him matter-of-factly, reaching across the counter for a plate.

“No, I mean, why are you threatening him now? They’ve been dating for years.”

“What?!” Stiles and Cora exclaim in unison.

Isaac looks at Stiles, then at Cora, then back at him. He scoffs. “What, haven’t you?”

“Isaac, you curly-haired dimwit,” Cora sighs exasperatedly.

“You’re messing with me. What the fuck?”

“What on Earth gave you that impression? We only got together last night,” Stiles wonders aloud.

He flips the pancake and Isaac just flips, period.

“Yo— you, you, you were so close!” he half-yells while throwing his hands around, gesturing excessively. “When you left for college, Derek was all mopey. He liked to see your contact number on his phone but never dialled like he was just waiting for you to call him instead. Then you came out when the witch wanted our memories and everyone was like, meh! Derek loves Stiles, no big deal! WHY WASN’T I IN ON THE SECRET?”

Isaac clutches the hem his shirt, faux frantic.

It suddenly makes sense to Stiles, the comments he was making before. Isaac must have thought that he and Derek were having relationship problems and he was merely teasing them. No big deal. Friends do that to each other all the time. Well, he actually wasn’t far off, but if only he knew how close he got to having his body mauled and thrown near the highway afterwards, he wouldn’t have dared to make those comments.

Cora rolls her eyes at him. “God, that was called discretion. Learn it some time, dumbass.”

“My whole life is a lie,” he whispers to no one in particular. “I know nothing anymore.”

Isaac stares at Stiles, as if he’s asking for a hand to hold. Stiles just laughs in his face and puts two pancakes on his plates. He also kindly pushes the syrup towards Isaac, whose eyes scream thank you at him.

Cora glares at Isaac as if he’s the most incredulous person she’s ever met. It gives Stiles a strange déjà vu feeling of how Derek used to look at him in the old days. Okay, maybe the Hales do have a thing with slow-burn relationships and falling for people who initially annoyed the life out of them.

Stiles looks at Cora but eventually decides not to tell her this observable fact over the fear for his life.

The brunette suddenly perks up, sitting up straight.“Ah. Those pancakes,” she points. “To go.”

“Where are you going? It’s way too early,” Stiles remarks.

“To my room.” She rolls her eyes, again, when Stiles asks for an explanation. “My brother’s up. I don’t want to be around for round two. I mean, you guys know we’re werewolves, right? We can hear through the walls. All. Night.” She motions at herself and Isaac.

Stiles has the decency to blush before dumping a bunch of pancakes on her plate and pouring a lot of syrup just because.

“And even if we couldn’t hear you, there’s no way Derek could sleep through the night naturally by himself. He usually gets five hours, max. Look at him today, he was sleeping in,” Isaac adds.

“No nightmares last night either. He sometimes screams,” Cora notes.

“Yeah, I thought it was your turn to have one last night,” Isaac counters, getting a smack on the head for his remark.

Cora smirks at Stiles knowingly, but she doesn’t say anything else. She’s right, of course, damn those super hearing abilities. Derek’s making his presence known as he comes down the stairs rather noisily. Stiles thinks the bedhead he’s sporting is extremely adorable.

Cora moves away from her chair, flicking Isaac’s ear when he doesn’t move along with her.

He turns around to voice his protest at her, but she gives him the death glare and Isaac shrugs. 

“I guess that’s my cue to go back upstairs as well,” he says.

“Good morning, isn’t it, Derbear?” she singsongs as the siblings pass each other. 

Derek ignores her, choosing not taking his eyes off of Stiles. Stiles might have fallen in love with him a little bit more because of that gesture. 

“Did she threaten you?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll talk to her later,” he says, sighing.

Stiles holds his hands up. “No need. You’ve had your fair share of threatening me too, don’t you think? It’s Hale classic, I’m used to it.”

Derek laughs. It’s full of mirth and free and lively. It’s also easily the most beautiful sound Stiles has ever heard. 

“So, you made breakfast,” he says as he takes Cora's previous seat.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you actually have groceries.”

Derek picks up a banana from the counter, then puts it down again. “Lydia comes here every other week and fill the fridge and the pantry. She wants us to… eat healthy. I think she still thinks we hunt deers in the woods or something,” he smiles.

This time, it’s sincere. Stiles feels giddy just by watching his smile.

“Do you want to know something?” he asks, setting a plate in front of Derek.

“Hm?”

“Apparently Isaac thought we’ve been dating for _years_.”

Stiles turns off the stove. He doesn’t even realise he had finished his batter.

“Who says we’re dating at all?” Derek asks calmly.

Stiles’s in the process of moving the pancakes from the pan to Derek’s plate, and he almost drops them all at that.

“Oh, you’re right. I just—“ he looks up.

Derek is grinning at him. Oh. _Oh._ “You’re an ass, Derek Hale. It’s still early and my senses haven’t woken up yet. Of course I fell for that.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t be making any jokes in the morning anymore.”

“So… we’re dating now? Just confirming.”

“If you want,” Derek nods, pouring coffee into a cup.

Stiles hands him a fork for his pancakes, notes happily that they are being nauseatingly domestic. “You’re not doing this for my cooking, right?”

“It’s an added bonus to have a personal chef, for sure,” Derek grins at him. 

“Oh, then, I so want to date you.” Stiles makes his way to Derek’s side of the counter and places his hands on Derek’s cheeks. “God, you’re way out of my league, y’know?”

Derek doesn’t even skip a beat before replying, “We both know I’m the one hitting a home run here.”

Stiles couldn’t stop himself from kissing Derek after that remark. He couldn’t hold back from resting their foreheads together after they parted either.

“STOP BEING SO DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE! I CAN HEAR YOU!” Cora bellows from her room.

“ME TOO!” Isaac continues. 

Derek rolls his eyes and nudges Stiles’ cheek with his nose.

“You should’ve left your shirt upstairs,” Stiles pouts, pulling at the fabric of thin white t-shirt Derek’s wearing.

“EW!” come the disgusted protests from upstairs.

 

* * *

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

Stiles’ stopped bothering to knock on the loft’s door about six months before Derek asked him to move in. Or, more accurately, asked the Sheriff’s permission to ask Stiles to move in, as if he was five years old instead of twenty-five. The Sheriff appreciated the gesture, though, apparently it was old-school and according to him, _the right way to do it_.

He practically kicks the door open this time. Derek’s sitting on the barcalounger, reading news on his laptop when Stiles comes in, but he doesn’t even bother to look up at his boyfriend. Not many of Stiles’ antics surprises him anymore.

“Happy Valentine’s Day! I got you a card,” Stiles says merrily, giving Derek a quick peck on the lips and dropping the card on his lap before making his way to the kitchen to unpack the groceries he just bought. 

“And where’s my chocolate?”

Stiles smiles, the impatience in the question is crystal clear to him. Derek’s second favourite part of Valentine’s Day is the ridiculously expensive chocolate Stiles always gets for him. It’s Stiles fault, really, he was trying to impress Derek way too hard their first Valentine together, it ended up setting unreasonable standards for all the following years.

It’s only lucky that Derek’s most favourite part is also Stiles’: trying new sex positions. Cora unfortunately walked in on them last year, but after many occasions of her making out with Isaac that Stiles had to endure, he would say that they’re square. Yep, apparently slow-burn _is_ a Hale thing. Not that the thought of her younger sister living under the same roof with her boyfriend excite Derek one tiny bit. Although after one night finding Isaac successfully calming down his sister after one of her worse night terrors, he has gradually warmed up to the idea. Reluctant acceptance is acceptance, according to Cora.

Stiles did get Derek the chocolate just as part of the tradition, but he had another idea in mind this year.“Isn’t chocolate harmful for dogs?” he calls out with faux concern in his voice. 

“Ha. Ha. Aren't the dog jokes getting old already? I’m a wolf, not a dog, by the way. And the wolf wants his chocolate, Stiles.”

“I was thinking of making some this year instead of buying them,” he says from the kitchen.

“Okay, now _that’s_ harmful for dogs,” Derek deadpans.

Stiles’ head appears in between the pillars separating the living room and the dining area. “Very funny. It’s our third Valentine together. I think three is a good number. You know. The Sun, the Moon, the Truth. Alpha, Beta, Omega. The dragon has three heads. Need I continue?” 

“You’re a nerd.”

“And _you_ haven’t opened your card.” 

Derek rolls his eyes, but obliges anyway. He tears open the envelope and pulls the card out.

The message gets Derek to not only stand up, but also walk all the 12 steps from his barcalounger to the kitchen.

‘Will you be my Valentine?’ it originally said, but Stiles had scratched out the Valentine and scrawled ‘mate’ next to it with his cursive handwriting that Derek used to complain about so much when they were listing things before a grocery run.

Derek had to read the card twice to make sure he’s not hallucinating it.

“Are you serious?” he asks Stiles, holding up the card in his right hand.

They’ve had this talk before. They even had a huge fight over the subject. Derek had initially been against the idea, because it would mean endangering Stiles more than anything else. Stiles had thought it was his choice, so he demanded Derek to respect his decision. Derek, to his credit, refused.

They didn’t talk for a week. Stiles even left the loft to crash with Scott and Kira. It was one of the worst weeks in their entire relationship that didn’t involve possibility of deaths. Derek sulked the entire time and refused to act civilised even with Cora, who already had to put up with him pacing in the loft at 3am because he couldn’t sleep properly without Stiles next to him.

Stiles was not better off. He binge-watched Gilmore Girls on the couch and didn’t get up to shower or sleep, limited his answers to questions to a curt yes or no. He only listened to Lydia, and even that had it limits. In the end, Kira had to kick him out of the apartment in the middle of the night with his pyjamas on to force him to reconcile with Derek.

When he got back to the loft that night, Derek was awake. It didn’t look like he slept at all since Stiles left and that thought alone almost made Stiles agree to whatever Derek wanted at that moment.

They talked and talked, but Derek still tried to stand his grounds. He pointed out, they both knew what happens to the mate more often than not. They get kidnapped, tortured, beaten, just to affect the Alpha without getting to them. It was always easier to get your hands on human, that much was true.

Stiles shuddered because he imagined Derek getting hurt on his account. He had asked if that’s what Derek didn’t want for him.

Derek had replied that it’s what he didn’t want for _himself_ , because Stiles get to die in the end and that’s it. But him? He would have to live with it, and he didn’t think he wanted to.

 _'We’re doing it for us. You told me once that it was my life, and I have to live it the way I wanted to, no matter what. Now it’s ours. And I don’t want to live through it being afraid,’_ Stiles had said, cupping Derek’s face in his hands. 

It took weeks after the initial fight to finally convince Derek to get on board with the plan, but it was as normal as it could be when they finally reached an understanding. They both knew the idea was on the table and the knowledge itself was enough for them. Until Stiles drops this bomb on him.

“Dead serious,” Stiles says.

“Not funny, Stiles.”

Stiles leaves the groceries unattended on the counter and makes his way to his boyfriend, taking Derek’s hands in his own.

“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have used the word dead. But I am serious. If you’ll have me. We’ll do the ceremony, everything,” he gives a reassuring squeeze.

Derek looks at him intently, studies each and every lash on Stiles’ eyes before saying, “Werewolves mate for life.”

There’s a question in his statement. _Are you sure?_

Stiles is 112% sure.

“You planning on switching me for a younger model?” he asks Derek.

“No,” Derek answers instantly, without any hesitation. “You?”

Stiles laughs. “What a ridiculous accusation,” he says, his right hand crossed over his heart like he feels offended by the question. “Okay, then, for life it is."

“For life it is,” Derek agrees.

“I love you, Derek,” Stiles declares, caressing Derek’s cheeks with his hands.

Derek leans into the touch. “I know.”

Stiles gasps. “Did you just Han Solo-ed me? You’re the nerd!” He retracts his hands and moves away from Derek, back towards the kitchen counter. 

“I lo—“

“Now get your ass over here and help me make you the damn chocolates you want so much,” he commands.

 _“_ -ve you too, Stiles, _”_ Derek finishes the sentence.

 Stiles already knows that, though, without a doubt in his mind.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this!


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